


rose tinted room

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Short & Sweet, Tenderness, mild ot3 at the very beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: While Trevor closes his eyes, enjoying this moment of warm intimacy, the dhampir thinks about what could happen if he chooses to feed. How the hunter’s body will turn hot and tense, enduring the initial pain before a moment of release as he becomes lightheaded. Blood will trickle down his collarbones, breast, then turn the white of the milk bath into a blush-like pink.





	rose tinted room

“You look like shit.”

“I always look like shit.”

At least he’s being honest. For a man who spent the better part of his short life wandering the countryside, determined to avoid any sense of purpose, Trevor now keeps himself busy. Embracing the family business and holding the darkness at bay away from those who cannot defend themselves among other dangerous responsibilities. All of which means Sypha and Alucard are no strangers to seeing him return home looking as though he had just wrestled with an entire night hoard on his own.

Trevor’s clothes hang ragged and torn off his body, decorated with splashes of wet blood. Bruises, scrape marks, and dirt litter his face. Then there’s the state of his constantly tousled hair. He carries no trophies, only minor injuries, which will eventually fade like the others that came before—just in time for him to receive fresh ones. The longer they stare, the more they silently question whether this is the outcome of a creature or a tumble in the streets because someone couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.

“I assume you were the victor.” Sypha comments, sizing him from top to bottom, admittedly impressed by the amount of accumulated blood.

“You assume correct.” Trevor’s mouth curls into a crooked grin. She half expects him to spit out a loose tooth.

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

Alucard grabs him by his oversized collar and pulls him inside. Sypha has no other choice but to tag along behind them, arms crossed. “If I have to see you walking about these halls looking like that, I think I’ll have a premature death.”

“Always the dramatic bastard, aren’t you?”

“I’m shocked your own stench hasn’t crawled up into your skull and laid eggs.”

Sypha’s expression scrunches up into one of disgust. “… I am fairly certain that is not possible,” she mumbles.

The massive door closes as the three are welcomed by warmth and dim candlelight. Hard to believe this is still Dracula’s castle. It wasn’t easy; not for Trevor in particular. Living in a place with that infamous title was just another challenge to overcome. It took time—plenty of time. True, the fortress’ machinations and countless laboratories teeming with knowledge of another era intrigues hm. Like a cat looking at a large, strange insect. Still, he no longer lies in bed losing sleep over what his ancestors wrote about Dracula and his eldritch abomination for a home. A personal victory in it of itself. The castle’s dormancy certainly helps, which he owes to Sypha despite her insistency that she never “broke” anything.

She and Alucard continue pulling Trevor along, climbing up spiral staircases and winding down long corridors. “Mind telling me where you’re both kidnapping me to?”

“We’re taking you to one of the powder rooms,” Alucard responds.

“If you want me to take a bath so badly, you don’t need to drag me by my neck.”

“This is necessary. If I let go, you’ll shamble off to bed and not give it much of a second thought.”

Trevor looks to Sypha for support, though she seems to be agreeing with Alucard. “It’s not as though you would make things any easier for us.”

“I’m fucking exhausted. You can’t blame me for that.”

“You poor thing,” the dhampir snorts. “You might disagree but taking a bath does not require much effort or energy.”

“But it does.” Trevor gives him a half-hearted whine before draping himself over his shoulders. “My legs give out just at the thought of taking a bath.”

“No, they do not. Perhaps if you’ve had a good round at the local—” Suddenly the hunter feels much heavier against Alucard’s back. Arms wrap around his neck; feet drag behind him. Some of the blood and grime on Trevor’s shirt wipes off on his own. Alucard tries breathing through his mouth instead of his nose, with little success. “Would you mind actually walking?”

“You heard me; my legs don’t work anymore.”

“They work _fine_. And this has never happened before.”

“It happens all the time. Don’t you remember?”

“Belmont, just because I have the strength to easily carry your dead weight does not mean I’m obligated to.”

Sypha doesn’t bother intervening; she’s done that before and it tires her. She prefers to act as the amused onlooker, and they’ve just so happened to come across her bedroom.

Alucard notices her trying to slink towards the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“He’s yours to deal with for the rest of the night.” She disappears before he can say another word, continuing their witty repartee. Alucard pouts, trudging forward with ease until Trevor decides that he’s tired with his own joke.

They finally arrive at a room with each wall displaying its own ornate candelabra. Light enough to see other contents such as an old wooden vanity table and a large bronze coloured tub, yet dark enough to fill every corner with shadows. Trevor watches Alucard’s concentrated expression in the oval mirror as he rummages through the drawers. “Now take those bloody rags off.”

He scoffs and begins to undress, starting with his boots. The floor feels warm beneath his bare feet. “Yours looks just as bloody as mine.”

Alucard glances down at his white shirt streaked with red. “You can thank yourself for this.” He slips out of the thin piece of fabric and tosses it to the side. An act that hasn’t shocked Trevor since the very beginning.

After retrieving everything he needs from the vanity, including a glass jar of white powder, Alucard moves to the tub. He turns a few knobs and the sound of rushing water echoes throughout the room. Trevor, stripped of his tunic and now half way out of his trousers, watches in curiosity then pleasant shock. A series of pipes crawling from the wall and along the floorboards shake together until the tub fills with clear, steaming liquid.

Just one of the many benefits to living in Dracula’s abode. Even Trevor can’t help but enjoy some of the lord’s luxuries he must have created during his spare time. Never again will he need to fill a basin at the nearest pump or river then heat it over a fireplace before repeating the same action over and over until his bath is finally ready.

Alucard places his fingertips into the water while his attention unconsciously wanders in Trevor’s direction. His eyes scale the hunter’s body, lingering on every scar and blemish—many of which mirror the one striking down his left eye.

“Wondering where some of these came from?” Trevor suddenly asks, snapping Alucard out of his daze.

“From your many hunting endeavours, I presume. Or bar fights.”

“Right again. But I do remember getting one from a goose.”

“… a goose.”

“Country animals can be vicious.” He says casually, as though it were the most common fact of life. Alucard stares at him unimpressed before grabbing the white jar. Sprinkling handfuls of powder into the tub, he ponders over who the winner of that particular fight was. The transparent water quickly turns a soft, pale cream colour after a few gentle swirls. Trevor peeks over Alucard’s shoulder, his brow furrowing.

“Is that supposed to be soap?”

“Not quite. This is a milk bath.”

The hunter’s nose wrinkles. “You want me to bathe in fucking milk?”

“Not the milk that’s for drinking. The powder is mixed with oils from rosemary and thyme.”

“I’ll come out smelling like seasoned chicken.”

“You’ll come out smelling far better than you do right now. Get in.” Alucard says the last two words with the right amount of insistency and jest. Thankfully—and surprisingly—Trevor does just that. Lowering himself into the bath, warm liquid washes over his body. He throws his head back, eyes half-lidded as a content sigh escapes his lips. Rarely has Alucard seen him so at ease, so satisfied. Even in Trevor’s most lighthearted moments, there is always tension in his shoulders and an expression that straddles the lines between pensiveness, apathy, and exhaustion.

Alucard could leave him like this, resting while being cleaned of all filth, but he isn’t quite finished yet. He reaches for a small bottle on the vanity and uncorks it. The air becomes thick with the smell of lavender, rosemary, and thyme. A thick, soapy substance pours into his palm before Alucard rubs his hands together.

Trevor, suspicious of the silent presence behind him, speaks up. “Hey… what are you doing back th—” But the dhampir’s lithe hands are already in his hair. They massage every inch of his skull while smoothing out the many, many knots. Trevor protests, claiming he can do it himself.

“I don’t think this is necess—OW! Stop pulling!”

“It’s not my fault your hair has gone uncared for like this.”

“Well, it’s not my fault either.” Trevor calms himself as Alucard’s movements grow slower, more tender. He quietly lies back in the tub while the dhampir smirks, followed by a chuckle.

“I believe you might be enjoying this.”

“Could say the same about you.” Before Trevor can bask in how right he is, Alucard fills a nearby bowl with water and splashes it over his head as he sputters in surprise. It happens a second time with less force until his white soapy hair returns to its dark shade.

“I certainly enjoyed that.”

Alucard leans forward and without realizing it, a few locks of his own hair fall close to Trevor, tickling his cheek. Instead of brushing them to the side, he raises his fingers and begins intertwining them between the strands. Idle and lazy, impressed by the softness. He then feels a hand sliding along his jawline, cupping it.

“Thinking about giving me a shave to top it all off?”

The hand forces Trevor’s head to lean back until he stares up into golden eyes. “If you can even call this stubble.”

“Better than what you can grow. Or does the sight of my bare neck tempt you that much?”

Alucard’s hold on Trevor loosens. It sounds like a dare, strangely similar to the things he said deep underneath Gresit. It must be a dare. “You speak of that so easily.” His voice is subtle; it nearly goes unnoticed and unremarked upon.

While Trevor closes his eyes, enjoying this moment of warm intimacy, the dhampir thinks about what could happen if he chooses to feed. How the hunter’s body will turn hot and tense, enduring the initial pain before a moment of release as he becomes lightheaded. Blood will trickle down his collarbones, breast, then turn the white of the milk bath into a blush-like pink.

Yes, Alucard can smell his blood mingling with the other fragrant aromas. It might taste sweeter than he could have imagined. He lowers his head, lips caressing along Trevor’s flushed neck. He’s so warm; Alucard's entire weight might sink right into him. A kiss here, a playful nip there, yet no teeth, not even to graze the skin.

“You know… you tend to talk a big game,” Trevor murmurs.

“About what?”

“About those fangs of yours.” He tilts his head further back and stares up at him from an upside-down angle. “Multiple times you’ve threatened to eat me, but when I actually serve my neck for you on a silver platter, all you have to give are a few chaste kisses. Something tells me you’re compensating.”

“Don’t be so assured.” Alucard pinches Trevor’s ear using one hand, tapping the tip of his upturned nose after every word with the other. “It’s called restraint. You would do well to invest in it.”

“Never even heard of the word.”

They both share a laugh as the room grows warmer, hazier. The most pleasant dream either of them have experienced in a very long time. Alucard kneels on the floor and nuzzles close against Trevor’s shoulder, basking in the scent of rosemary. He might as well be sitting in a garden following a gentle rainstorm. It will be a while before the two men head off to their bedrooms.

**Author's Note:**

> not entirely happy with this since it's not as long or detailed as my more recent stuff but it's been sitting in my folder since february and it's cute so i decided to post it before i finish this big one i'm currently working on~


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